


starry eyed

by lovemenow



Category: AB6IX (Band)
Genre: Angst, Bad Ending, Dialogue Heavy, Diseases, Gay, Idk how to end fics, M/M, Unreciprocated Love, did not proofread we die like men, i took 2 days to write this so its kinda bad, im bad at them, there is not ONE single happy occasion, this is pure 6k of angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-11
Updated: 2020-04-11
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:14:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23588995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovemenow/pseuds/lovemenow
Summary: Even if colours fade, Youngmin still shines the brightest.
Relationships: Jeon Woong/Lim Youngmin, Kim Donghyun/Lim Youngmin
Comments: 6
Kudos: 21





	starry eyed

**Author's Note:**

> read me ヾ(๑╹◡╹)ﾉ"
> 
> im finaaallyyy back with an au! i was gonna write something fluffy but its not a fic from me if its not made up of 80% angst, so heres something i whipped up while being under my country's circuit breaker ^__^
> 
> this au was entirely based off [ this](https://twitter.com/rchimedesu/status/1246209686682185730?s=21) thread i found on twitter. i thought the idea was beautiful and raw and i just had to write something inspired by it!!!
> 
> i hope you enjoy this piece as much as ive loved writing it, and i hope all of you stay safe and take care of yourself during this crucial period!
> 
> talk to me on twt [ @lymprint](https://twitter.com/lymprint) about anything! i love hearing feedback from you guys （◞‿◟）
> 
> lots of love, water bottles n face masks,  
> lovemenow xo

_Ting._

Then comes an abrupt stop of typing on the keyboard of his PC. The room is silent suddenly. He can only hear the sound of his breathing, ragged and shaky. Why is he feeling so nervous? It’s almost like he’s afraid to look down to see where the sound came from.

_Ting._

The same sound resonated in the small study. Despite it being quiet and lasting only a split second, it rings incessantly in his ears. He shut his eyes tight, pursing his lips together. He shifts his gaze down to the glass top of his work desk after opening his eyes, slowly, hesitantly.

And then he sees it: two small, almost crystal-like tinted stars. Cautiously picking one of them up between his index finger and thumb, he scrutinises it carefully. A surge of shock runs through him and he scrambles up to his feet, causing him to drop the said star on the floor. It didn’t shatter like he expected it to; instead the faint tint intensified, into a vibrant, vivid red, covering the entirety of it until it was wholly an opaque, bright crimson star. The other star that remained on the desk also lost its transparency and turned into a warm, sapphire blue.

“ _Hyung,_ what’s going on?” a frantic figure comes rushing into the room, concern evident on his face. He sees the elder sitting cross legged on the floor and follows his gaze fixated on the floors. He sees it too, blinking one-two times, his eyes shifting from the red star to the brunette rocking back and forth. Squatting down, a trembling hand reaches out to the little star. He glances at the elder, who is still incredibly shaken and fearful, placing the star into the open palm of his hand. “You just couldn’t stop yourself, could you, Woong- _hyung_?”

Woong wants to yell, to scream. He didn’t want it to end like this. He knew he needed to do something once he connected the dots, once he realised he was starting to develop feelings for someone who didn’t belong to him, who was way out of his league. For so long he had been warned that he could be in grave danger if he didn't pull himself together and bury everything deep inside him. For so long, he had been warned that he would be completely exposed to the risk of getting the disease that could potentially end his life, if he didn’t know how to control his heart.

“What could I have done, Daehwi?” he breathes, finally able to compose himself. “I hold him too close to my heart and I think about everything he does. Every smile, every word he utters to me, every laugh that’s caused by me,” he pulls his legs into his chest, resting his chin atop his knees. “It’s not my fault I fell in love with him,” his voice starts to get softer as emotions start to wash over him, a tear rushing down his cheek. Another star lands on the back of his hand, turning violet. As he lifts his eyes up to meet the younger’s, he picks the star up and lets it sit prettily on his open palm. “So neither is it his fault that he fell in love with someone else. It’s not Youngmin- _hyung'_ s fault that Donghyun is the one who lives in his heart.”

And it’s true — how could Woong ever blame Youngmin for falling in love with someone else, for not being able to reciprocate his feelings?

“I don’t know how to help you,” Daehwi’s voice is gentle and hushed. He stalks over, still squatting, and plops down in front of the elder, hands settled on his lap. “You _know_ the only way these stars will stop is if he loves you back… or if you get surgery–”

“If I get surgery, I’ll forget everything,” Woong cuts him off. “ _Everything,_ Daehwi. I’ll forget the feeling of being in love, of warmth spread across my chest when his eyes twinkle. And the way I feel dizzy when he compliments the songs I’ve written, and how I feel like I’m going to pass out from excitement just thinking about him singing lyrics I’ve worked so hard on.” He lists everything, _every single thing_ he would forget — all with a smile on his face. Daehwi can only look at him with a slight hint of sadness concealed behind his eyes. “I’ll forget _him_. I’ll forget Youngmin- _hyung_.”

Daehwi lets out a long sigh. “What do you want to do, then?”

The elder gives him a small, faint smile. “Let it consume me whole until it ends my life,” he tells him quietly. “At the very least, I’ll remember him.”

* * *

Day by day, week by week, the stars get brighter, more lucid, almost glowing. When they land on the work desk in his room, some of them are already opaque. Woong’s eyes hurt, and he’s always feeling faint and light-headed. He can’t tell if it’s from _stars_ falling from his tear ducts or if it’s just the lack of food and drink he’s been consuming as of late. Either way, he just feels _sick_.

At the end of the month, Daehwi texts him to tell him that Youngmin has asked three of them — three, as in, Woong, Woojin and himself — to gather at his new condominium for a mini housewarming party.

Wait, _three_?

“Why _three_?” Woong asks him on the phone, confusion laced in his tone. “What about Dong–”

“Donghyun- _hyung_ moved in,” the younger interrupts him. “It’s _their_ housewarming party at _their_ new condo. I just– I didn’t know how to tell you, _hyung_.” 

A quiet, barely audible _oh_ escapes Woong’s mouth. He doesn’t know what else to say, so he simply ends the call with a soft _goodbye_ and switches his phone to Do Not Disturb mode. He felt horrible — he hung up before Daehwi could even say anything else. It was the selfishness that took the bigger part of him.

When the day comes, Woong dreads it. It’s the first time he would see Youngmin since the first star fell. If he’s honest, he’s afraid of what else the disease is capable of. Is it going to give him immense pain when seeing the one who he hides away in his heart? Or is it going to save him from perplexed looks and concerned questions at the dinner table? He would have to wait and see for himself.

He shows up 15 minutes early, pacing back and forth at the front of the condominium block. On one hand he holds the gift bag — two coffee mugs, with Y and D embossed on each of them — while the other hand is brought to his mouth, teeth biting away at his nails anxiously. Although dressed lightly in a sky blue short-sleeved button up and jeans, he is somehow feeling exceptionally hot.

“Woong- _hyung_!” a voice– no, _two_ voices call his name out in sync. He turns to see Woojin and Daehwi jogging over to him, smiles wide and eyes bright. For a moment, he forgets all about his nervousness — he’s just thankful he has both of them to be at the housewarming with him. “Let’s go!”

The elevator ride is _suffocating._ Woong feels as if his heart has gone up to his throat and he’s going to pass out any time soon. The other two make small talk, predicting how the condo unit is going to look like, the colour schemes and the furniture. On the contrary, he just wants to see how proud Youngmin is with his new home, knowing how much time he had spent picking out the things for the house.

_1209_. Their birth months. Woong heaves a sigh — he hates to admit how he just _knows_ it was Youngmin’s idea. It seems like it’s something only the elder would do. Romantic, but cliché all the same. It was definitely Youngmin’s doing.

Daehwi knocks on the tall door, and almost instantly it swings open. It reveals a smiley Donghyun, dressed in a wine-red t-shirt and black jeans, dark hair messy and round frames resting on the bridge of his nose. “Oh, you’re all here! _Youngie_ , they’re here!”

The condominium unit is spacious and minimally furnished. The walls are painted a light teal and the living room is simply decorated, a white three-seater and two-seater placed to form an L-shape. From marble countertops to light grey textured cabinets, the open-concept kitchen complements the colour scheme of the house prettily.

“I _told_ you it was going to be green,” Woojin sneers at the youngest amongst them, “it’s just a Youngmin- _hyung_ thing.” Daehwi tuts, correcting the elder and telling him that _it’s teal!_ and going over to Donghyun.

“Donghyun chose it, actually,” Youngmin appears from the corridor, ruffling his damp hair. “But sure, that’s a me thing too, Woojin-ah.” The eldest is smiling at him, an oversized white t-shirt covering his torso, grey sweats over his long legs. “How do you like it, Woongie?”

Woong returns the smile (correction: a grin), nodding at the man standing in front of him. “I like it. It fits you both,” he tells him. He remembers the gift bag he’s been holding the whole time and hands it over to Youngmin. “I didn’t know what to get you, so um, I just got matching mugs for you two.”

He watches Youngmin take the ceramics out, a fond smile forming on his face. “Oh, Donghyun is going to love these,” he looks over to his boyfriend, squashed in between Woojin and Daehwi. “Thanks, Woong.”

Dinner makes him feel out of place. They all sit on the floor of the living room, eating cheese _tteokbokki_ while watching 21 Jump Street. Donghyun is leaning on Youngmin’s shoulder while eating his share, and luck _really_ isn’t on Woong’s side as he catches him feeding Youngmin a slice of sausage, the both of them erupting into a short fit of giggles.

His eyes start to hurt. He thinks a star is going to trickle down his cheek, any moment now. Before it gets any worse, Woong decides to excuse himself to the bathroom.

He closes the lid of the toilet bowl, sits on top of it, then puts his head in his hands. _Ting, ting, ting_ , the stars go, landing on the tiles of the floor, turning coral, lilac, turquoise. He picks all of them up, examining each one in his palm. Maybe seeing Youngmin _did_ make it worse. At this point of time, he just wants to go home.

They leave the condominium at 11pm. Donghyun had fallen asleep and Youngmin could only manage to bid them farewell from the floor of his living room, afraid to wake his lover up from his slumber. The eldest apologises, then thanks them for coming over, then tells all three that they should come again soon.

Woong can only sit in silence in his bedroom back in his own home, putting the stars in the glass jar on his work desk. About one-eighth of it is filled, different shades of colours overlapping. He thinks by the time the glass jar is filled up, he won’t be able to even see the colours anymore. Maybe he won’t even live to see it filled up. It’s a funny thing. The whole situation causes him to laugh dryly.

* * *

The five of them meet again two weeks later. It’s the peak of spring, and Daehwi had been complaining that he had no one to see the cherry blossoms with. Ultimately, his master plan was just to make all of them have a chill, relaxed day together and talk about everything under the sun, like they used to do.

Woong was hesitant, but he agreed anyway, showing up in a denim jacket worn over a white t-shirt and dark-washed jeans. A part of him wasn’t too eager of the idea of seeing Youngmin and Donghyun being _extra_ PDA, but he pushed it aside; after all, Daehwi just wanted them all to enjoy a day together.

He doesn’t talk much the whole day, keeping quiet the entire time they walk through the cherry blossom path. The other four crack jokes and poke fun at each other, but he can only manage to laugh along at the back. He doesn’t know how to integrate himself into the pockets of conversation without seeming like a pushover. They’ve all been friends for a long time, but somehow there’s a little sliver in him that always thought he didn’t belong there.

“Woongie?” a tap on his shoulder, accompanied by a voice he’s too afraid to admit he loves a little too much. The remaining three are far off in front, leaving the two of them alone. “You’ve been oddly quiet? Everything okay?” Youngmin is gentle. _Too_ gentle. “Even back at our place, you weren’t yourself. Is there anything wrong?”

Woong meets his eyes, worry concealed behind them. “I’m okay,” he fibs. “I don’t know, I’m just a little under the weather. And back at your condo, I was worn out from working late the previous night– I’m sorry.” He wishes he could even say a part of what’s really happening, but all that seems to come out of his mouth are lies, lies, and more lies.

And then a star falls from the corner of his eye.

_Fantastic!_ Woong wants to wipe himself off of the face of Mother Earth. _Great fucking timing, disease!_

The star that lands on the ground is pink, like the petals of the cherry blossoms scattered everywhere on the concrete pavement. He picks it up and pockets it, not knowing how to face Youngmin. In the two minutes that have passed, the elder has not muttered a single word at all, only watching as Woong squats down to take the star and tuck it into the pocket of his jacket. What _is_ he supposed to tell him, anyway?

“You–” “Right, yeah, I forgot to tell you that I just so happen to be crying stars every once in a while as of late,” he almost makes it sound like a joke. He doesn’t even give Youngmin a chance to probe further, chuckling softly and looking back up at him. “And yes, I am hurting, but I think I’ll just have to control myself a little, don’t I, _hyung_?” he doesn’t think the elder would have an answer to the rhetorical question, so he walks away, arms folded across his chest.

“You’re stuck with it forever?” Youngmin catches up with him. “Why… who…” he’s never heard him so soft, like a whisper in the light breeze. “What can you do?”

Woong only manages to snicker. “Forever won’t be a long time since I’ll eventually die from it,” he says nonchalantly, “as for what I can do; of course surgery is the only—known—way, but I’d rather just, live with it.” He exhales deeply, sparing a glance at the taller man walking beside him. “Forget the colour-blindness and the potential memory loss, I don’t mind as long as I can still remember him.”

Youngmin keeps mum. Maybe Woong’s words had taken him aback for real. Maybe he opened another door in Woong’s heart, one that led him to the more quiet part of the younger, the part where he kept all the things he was afraid to tell just anyone. “I’m sorry,” is all he can say, giving him a sympathetic smile, “I hope the one you love realises it soon. I don’t like seeing you in pain like this, Woong.”

Everything is still for a bit, until Youngmin reaches out to ruffle his hair. Woong looks perplexed, his own fingers raking through the dark strands, blinking at the elder. “Oh, there was a petal that fell,” Youngmin shows him the velvet-like petal on his palm. “You know, I read somewhere that if petals fall on you, it means your wish is going to come true.” The smile on his face suddenly makes up for all the hurt he’s gone through. “I hope everything goes well.”

The two of them catch up with the trio, agreeing on a barbeque place for dinner. When they all finish eating, Youngmin and Donghyun go back home together, then Woojin, Daehwi and himself all go separate ways, back to their own apartments. He’s exhausted and just wants to lay in bed.

When he steps into his room, the first thing he does is put the pink star in the glass jar. He pulls out the chair and sits down, placing his head on top of his arms on the table. Woong pours out a handful of stars from the jar, noticing how the ones at the bottom have all faded into light shades of grey and white. They’re no longer the vivid blues and reds and purples they once were when they first appeared.

He knows that eventually he won’t be able to see colours in his daily life anymore, slowly by slowly, little by little. He however didn’t take this too heavily,

because Youngmin would still be the brightest, the most vivid, the most vibrant, amidst the darkness he would soon be living in.

* * *

A month passes. Colours start to fade, days become dull and dreary, nights are long and draggy. A quarter of the glass jar is now filled, a noticeable gradient of pastel colours to a blank, plain white. Woong knows they’re all probably brighter than what he can see.

When midweek comes around, he gets a text from Donghyun asking to accompany him to go out for brunch. Youngmin had gone back to Busan, Woojin is in Jeju with his parents, and Daehwi is busy with college. Clearly it’s only left with the two boys from Daejeon left alone in Seoul.

They settle for Western food, getting egg benedicts with toast. They talk, and talk some more, about God knows what. It’s more of empty, baseless conversations and catching up with what they’ve been doing the past month, and though Woong isn’t the most comfortable given the situation, he feels like he can at least breathe again.

But then there’s silence that envelops them in the small booth tucked away in the corner of the bistro, and Woong thinks maybe he’s spoken too soon.

“It’s Youngmin- _hyung,_ right?”

Just one sentence is enough to rob Woong of words. The fork that is used to feed a slice of tomato into his mouth fell with a _clank_ against the glass plate. The elder can only look at the dark-haired man sitting before him, void of expression with his hands entwined on the table. If Woong wants to play dumb and act as if he doesn’t know what the hell is Donghyun talking about, he’s probably already too late.

“You can tell me, _hyung_. He’s my boyfriend, but you’re also one of my best friends. I care about you,” Woong can tell he’s not trying to come off as aggressive. “Maybe I can’t do anything about it, but I just want to know…” his eyes soften, tongue swiping across his lips in one quick motion. “And if there’s any anger or jealousy you bury deep inside you, I–”

Woong cuts him off with a sigh. “Yes, it’s Youngmin- _hyung_ ,” the smile that plays on his lips seems bittersweet. “Yes, there’s too much anger and jealousy in me, but what can I do about it, Donghyun? Vent it out on you? Condemn you, hate you, because he’s in love with you and not me?” he doesn’t sound like he’s angry. “Even before I started liking him, I knew he only had his eyes on you. I knew I stood no chance against you, and maybe that’s why I’m simply sitting through this… whatever _this_ is, without making a fuss.”

Donghyun can only stare at him with his lips parted. “Donghyun,” he closes his eyes momentarily, “I’ve already come to terms with the fact that I’ll eventually die off like this.” He runs a hand down his face, exhaling a deep breath. “I’ve told myself that while I still have time to love him, I will. Quietly, with no means of interfering between the both of you. I’m happy like this, Donghyun. I just want to be able to see him happy, even if it’s not with me.”

The younger recovers, pursing his mouth into a tight line. “You… don’t hate me?” _God, why does he sound so small?_ “Not even one small bit?”

“Why would I hate you?” Woong knits his brows together. “I don’t have a valid reason to.”

_Ting_.

A star falls. It lands right on the end of his knife, bouncing slightly to stop on the tabletop. _Ting_ , another one goes, making him roll his eyes and shakes his head. When he looks up again, Donghyun has this weird, almost dumbfounded look on his face. Woong shifts his gaze back to the two little stars and places them on his palm.

“Donghyun,” he calls, “what colour are they?”

Woong thinks that if there was anyone who looked like his eyes were going to pop out of his skull, it would be Donghyun. “O-Orange,” he fumbles, “and blue. True blue.” His pupils are shaky. “Can you… not see them?”

“Just barely,” he chuckles. “I’m seeing a pale blue and more of a yellow, that’s why I asked.” And it’s true: Woong did see a light, more pastel blue and a slight yellow shade. Although he’s starting to roughly guess the correct colours after about a week or two of losing the ability to see them, it doesn’t hurt to get clarification when there’s a chance to. “Sooner or later I won’t even have the slightest hint of what colour these stars are.”

Donghyun breathes, then doesn’t say anything else. For the rest of the time they eat in silence, until they both finish their food and quietly make a mental agreement to leave. They walk down the street with hands tucked into the front pocket of their hoodies, taking in the last of the spring air and enjoying the flowers on the trees that line up the sidewalks.

When they reach a point where Woong would turn left and Donghyun would turn right, they stop walking. The younger gives him a small smile, mirroring him. “You should tell him,” he says after a long time. “Youngmin- _hyung._ He deserves to know. And you, you can’t keep this all to yourself — _especially_ not from him.”

“Do I want to know how he will react when he knows, though?” he laughs again. “I’ll see you again soon, Donghyun.”

* * *

Woong wakes up one morning with his head _throbbing_ , the first thing he hears being his own heartbeat palpitating wildly in his ears. It _hurts_ , and he wants to cry, holding his head in his hands and burying it into his pillows in hopes of stopping the pain. _Why is it hurting so much?_

The painkillers are too far from his bed, so he decides to just suck it up and wait till the pain goes away. He opens and closes his eyes every so often, but that just makes his head spin even more — the colours he sees are practically glitching right in front of him, disintegrating and fading into the greys and whites the first few stars have all turned into. Woong groans, his hands clutching his sheets until his knuckles turn white. It’s way much more than he can take.

He lifts his head up from his pillow after probably 15 minutes. Laid out sporadically on the fabric of the pillow covers are six, seven, _eight_ stars, already void of vividity and vibrancy. They’re all merely different shades of grey, white, two of which are just charcoal black.

Woong cries. Simply put. His tears wet the pillowcase and the only sound being heard in his room is his sniffling. His wails are silent, muffled by his hands, and he’s rocking back and forth on his bed. He pulls his knees close to his chest and places his forehead on top of them, hugging his legs. He’s not panicky or frantic, just upset.

Well after months of keeping all feelings and pain to himself, Woong finally lets loose. Sitting alone on his bed, he let desolation consume him whole. He let the tears he’s held back for so long fall freely, until his shoulders jerk and his whole body is shaking, until he’s desperate for air and he has to force himself to stop. He doesn’t hide anything anymore. Woong just pours everything out.

For a moment he forgets _why_ he’s crying, because it’s been about half an hour of him sobbing non-stop. And then he sees the glass jar, and the stars still on top of his pillow, and he loses it again. 

Woong doesn’t know how much longer he cries for, but he gets tired, eyes sore and puffy, and he decides to sleep the day off. The last thing he remembers is texting Daehwi to ask _when will my misery end?_ and then telling him _I just want to see the rainbow again._ He drifts off to sleep quicker than usual, curling up into a ball.

When he wakes up the following morning, the sun is high above his head and the birds that sit on the tall street lights are chirping noisily. He recalls the night before and winces, raking a hand through his hair. He doesn’t bother to check the time until his phone vibrates from yet another reminder to hydrate himself. It’s almost 11:30a.m.

He stays in bed doing nothing. Staring up at the ceiling and snickering at the double-sided tape residue from when he had those glow in the dark stars, moons and planets that he stuck up. Another deep exhale is let out when he remembers those were a gift from Youngmin on his 21st birthday.

Woong doesn’t know just how bad this day will go. But it definitely gets worse when his phone vibrates again and he gets a text from the said man asking if he’s free for the afternoon. _I think you know what this is about, Woong,_ it reads, and suddenly his heart is up to his throat. He remembers Donghyun telling him that if Woong doesn’t let Youngmin know personally, he’ll do it himself. _Let’s just walk down the cherry blossom lane and talk, okay? I’ll meet you there at 2pm._

God, just how on earth could Jeon Woong say no?

So they meet, at the start of the cherry blossom lane. Woong can’t tell what kind of colours are even around him anymore, but if his guesses are right, Youngmin is wearing a white t-shirt with a pink patterned cardigan over it. But the smile he wears on his lips is something Woong doesn’t need to ponder and crack his brains about — it’s clear, bright, like light in the dark. He doesn’t need colours to know that Youngmin looked perfect, like he always does.

They pad down the lane, with no words exchanged. Just two of them and the cherry blossom trees that line up the sides of the path. Even though it’s busy with couples, families and friends bustling about, the silence that engulfs the both of them is nothing short of deafening.

“When?” Youngmin’s voice startles him a little. “When did this start?”

Woong doesn’t know which _when_ he is asking about — when he started liking him or when he started having the disease — so he tells him both. “I liked you before you and Donghyun even started getting close,” he admits sheepishly. “But it wasn’t love yet, obviously. The first time a star fell from my eye was just a couple of months ago, so I guess _that_ was when I started falling in love with you.”

“You liked me for over two years and you didn’t even want to talk to me about it?” he halts Woong from walking any further, a hand loosely gripping his forearm. He pulls him over to a quieter part of the path, sitting down on a bench. The younger follows suit, keeping his hands on his lap. “Why would you do that to yourself, Woong? I wasn’t even considering Donghyun back then, if you had told me, maybe you wouldn’t even be tangled in a situation like this…”

Youngmin has his lips twisted into a frown, brows knitted tightly together and eyes sad. Woong could tell he’s upset, disappointed almost. “Why were you just a little bit too late?” his voice goes quiet. “You wouldn’t be suffering if you told me– God, why didn’t you just tell me?” he sounds exasperated.

“What could you even have done if I told you, _hyung_?” he tears his eyes away from the elder. “You’re smart, you have so many friends, so many people chasing you wanting your attention. I could only sit around and have feelings for you by myself,” his fingers fidget with the ends of his sweater. “I couldn’t bear to ruin our friendship in the event that I told you I liked you, loved you, whatever it is. Being able to call myself your friend was already something too precious for me,” Woong’s voice disappears into the light spring breeze, his knuckle catching a tear threatening to fall from the corner of his eye.

“I liked you and I didn’t know how to tell you. Every time you asked me if I had the hots for someone on campus, I think about how it would turn out if I told you it was you,” he exhales. “I was going to tell you during the mid-autumn festival back then, but by the time I had it all prepared, you told me you were going out with Donghyun — so I kept quiet. Until we’ve graduated, until I’m crying stars every night.” He finally looks at Youngmin. “Until we’re here.”

Youngmin pulls the smaller into a hug, burying his face in the crook of his neck. It takes Woong by surprise, but he relishes the comfort he has longed for, his arms going around the elder’s torso. Youngmin is crying, sniffling softly, his shoulders jerking ever so slightly.

It’s a while until he’s just leaning on Woong, his forehead against his shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he croaks. “I’m sorry I caused this, I’m sorry, Woong.”

“Stop it, _hyung_ ,” he pushes Youngmin to arm’s length. “How is this _your_ fault? I don’t think anyone needs to be sorry right now.” Woong forces a smile, in hopes to see _him_ smile. He can’t take the sight of his rainbow being upset. “You have to put this past us, okay? Maybe we’ve had this talk, but the next time we see each other, I want you to pretend this never happened. You don’t know I like you, and I’m just another one of your good friends.”

Youngmin frowns. “Woong…”

“Youngmin- _hyung_ ,” he gazes over at him. “I just want to be able to keep seeing you.”

* * *

Woong decided to get surgery.

Six months doesn’t seem like a long time, but the glass jar shows otherwise. Almost filled up to the brim, Woong can’t even remember the last time he saw a real burst of colour. The only hues he sees are greys, black, white. Life has gotten miserable, and the throbbing in his head every morning just seems to get worse.

He knew he’d told Daehwi surgery was not an option. He recalled how he said he would never even _think_ about it because he didn’t want to forget Youngmin. But after realising he still has a lot of things to live for rather than just die from a disease like this, he’d scheduled a date to operate.

Youngmin, Donghyun, Woojin and Daehwi all came to the hospital that afternoon. Woong takes a good look at all four of them, eyes watery and bottom lip quivering. Would it be wrong to just stare at the eldest for a little bit longer? He pushes away all thoughts and decides to take in the sight of Youngmin smiling softly at him.

“I’ll see you guys in a few hours! Stop looking so sad,” Woong tries to clear the air. “I’ll be fine.”

It would be the last time he saw Youngmin and remembered who he was.

The anxiety that starts to envelope Youngmin becomes more and more intense. Woong would be done in just a few minutes, but he doesn’t think he’s ready to see the confusion on his face when he asks who Youngmin is. A sigh of relief is heard when the surgeon comes out of the operating theater, removing his mask, revealing a big grin.

“He’s alright. He’ll wake up in a bit, so you can go visit him in his ward.” The surgeon then reaches into the back pocket of his pants. A folded piece of paper is fished out. “Is there a Youngmin among the four of you?” The owner of the name blinks, then nods. The surgeon hands the paper to him and smiles. “He told me to give this to you before we began operating.”

Youngmin bites his lip, but thanks him anyway. The four of them head to Woong’s ward, and he’s nervous. He knows Woong will not remember him, but a part of him hopes it’s not true. Following closely behind Daehwi, they enter his room.

“Oh, Daehwi!” Woong is cheerful. He greets Donghyun and Woojin all the same, his eyes lit up and the ends of his mouth curled up to form a smile that reaches his ears. “Oh? Who… is that?” he asks Daehwi, blinking at Youngmin. “I’ve never seen him before.”

Woojin gulps. “He’s, um, Youngmin- _hyung_. Donghyun- _hyung_ ’s boyfriend.” Youngmin can tell the smile on his face isn’t sincere.

“I see, I see! It’s nice to meet you! I’m Woong,” he speaks excitedly again. _I know, Woong._ “When I get discharged, we should all get some food together.”

Youngmin _has_ to excuse himself. He tells Donghyun he’s going to be outside, and the concern is evident in his boyfriend’s voice when he tells him to be safe. The elder leaves the room, out to the little lounge area outside the ward. Taking the piece of paper out of the pocket of his hoodie, he unfolds it and starts reading.

_Youngmin-hyung,_

_I never intended to forget you. Maybe if I had gotten this disease a little later in the future, technology would be able to help me remember you. But the stars that have robbed me of colours are too cruel. Aside from forgetting I love you, they’re also taking you away from my memory. I’m sorry._

_This disease has hurt me too much. It’s brought me more pain than loving you has. My decision was a difficult one, and I hope you understand that. Although it was painful, I want you to know that I don’t regret even a second of loving you. You made me so happy, hyung._

_If there was one thing I’d tell you, it’s that you’re my rainbow. Even in a world of darkness, dullness; you still appear the most colourful to me. The day we walked down the cherry blossom lane, you were like the sunshine that I never thought I’d live to see again._

_I love you. Even if I don’t remember you anymore in this life, you still have a part of me. I’ve loved you then, I love you now, and I’ll love you even after you read this letter, after I forget everything about you._

_I love you, Im Youngmin. I love you. I love you so much._

_Woong_

A tear falls, then another, creating fat water stains on the thin sheet of paper. Youngmin folds it, then tosses it on the table in front of him. He puts his head in his hands, silencing himself and trying to keep himself in control. Minutes pass, but he’s still in the same position.

_Ting_.

Youngmin stops. He opens his eyes, seeing a twinkle on the tiles of the floor. He picks the foreign object up, placing it in his hands.

Slowly turning a bright crimson, a crystal-like tinted star sat prettily in his palm.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> ps, on the day i posted this, woong tweeted [ this](https://twitter.com/ab6ix_members/status/1248913449146404865?s=21)... and i think woongmin deserve!!!


End file.
